Words You Don't Mean
by Batsutousai
Summary: That's how Arthur dealt with people he grew too attached to, he snarled and pushed them away. He'd done it with Morgana, and now he was trying it with Merlin. [Merlin/Arthur]


**Title:** _Words You Don't Mean_  
**Fandom:** _Merlin_  
**Author:** Batsutousai  
**Rating:** T  
**Pairing:**Arthur Pendragon/Merlin  
**Warnings:** Morgana plays matchmaker, Arthur's such a boy, Merlin's only mostly oblivious  
**Summary:** That's how Arthur dealt with people he grew too attached to, he snarled and pushed them away. He'd done it with Morgana, and now he was trying it with Merlin.  
**Disclaim Her:** This story uses characters and settings owned by BBC and Shine. No money is being made from the creation of this fanfic, and no copywrite infringement is intended.

**A/N:** Somehow, master-hiddleston (tumblr) and I got on the topic of _Merlin_ and pairings. I admitted I've been working on a Mergana piece and there was much sorrow, because Merthur. So I said I'd try maybe writing some.  
One of these days, I'll learn to stop accepting prompts. XD

Timeline-wise, this fic takes place before Morgana discovers she has magic, but after Arthur almost died from the Questing Beast. So, early season two.

This is unbeta'd, on account of my not having a beta for this fandom. I apologise in advance for any and all abuse of the English language. (But only as it pertains to your ability to read it; I'm actually quite in favour of beating English for shits and grins. XD)

This fic can also be read on Archive of Our Own, LiveJournal, and Tumblr. Links on my bio.

-0-

When Morgana was ten, her best friend shoved her out of a tree and told her not to bother coming back up. When she'd tried, ever stubborn, he'd pushed her out again, only apologising when Gaius had declared she'd broken her wrist.

That best friend had been Arthur, and things had been in a constant flux since: One minute, he could be bringing her flowers and stumbling over an apology for being mean to her, the next he was snarling in her face and calling her names they both knew would make her cry.

It took years before Morgana discovered that was just how Arthur, raised by Uther as he had been, dealt with people he grew too emotionally attached to, snarling and pushing them away to keep them from realising how much they could hurt him. He'd done it to her for years, and now he was trying it with Merlin.

Morgana wasn't inclined to just sit back and let her childhood friend ruin another chance at a relationship, and seeing Merlin's crushed and confused expression after a particularly loud shouting match, had rather cinched that decision. She liked Merlin, and she trusted him to keep Arthur in line, as odd as that might seem for a servant.

But, then, none of them had ever really thought of Merlin as a normal servant, not after he'd been hung up in the stocks first thing for running his mouth off, then turned around and saved Arthur's life.

Morgana sighed and shook her thoughts away before leaving a heavy knock on Arthur's chamber doors and shoving right past them without waiting for a response. "Arthur, we need to _talk_."

Arthur let out a squawk of indignation, having fumbled his wine glass, and snarled, "Morgana, get _out_. I'm in no mood–"

"Oh, yes, you look quite foul this morning," Morgana agreed over him, smile all sharp turns as she cast her eyes quite obviously over the wine stains. "You might need to have Merlin return to help you change, but after you sent him away so upset, I'm sure you'll simply have to wait a few hours. It'll do you well to smell of fermented grapes for a bit; matches your soul."

"Aren't you women supposed to be some sort of delicate flower?" Arthur grumbled, blotting at the wine with a napkin Merlin had brought with the breakfast tray. He sighed after a moment and pushed away from the table to strip off his tunic. "Fine. Talk. Not like I can stop you," he added under his breath, quiet enough that Morgana nearly missed it.

She rolled her eyes and leaned against the table, eyes following the muscles of his back as he shifted through his tunics for a new one; just because she wasn't interested in him – he was like a brother to her – didn't mean she couldn't appreciate watching him. (That it tended to make him uncomfortable was really just a bonus.)

"_Morgana_," Arthur complained, ducking behind his changing screen.

Morgana allowed herself a pleased little smile, then said, "_Arthur_. You do realise that if you keep pushing Merlin away, any feelings he has for you are just going to be crushed under the urge to strangle you, right?"

There was a thump, followed by the sound of fabric ripping, then Arthur stumbled out, wide-eyed and pale, tunic caught up uselessly in his arms and torn across one sleeve. "Ex_cuse_ me?" Camelot's sole prince gasped out, failing miserably at sounding insulted.

Morgana sighed and stepped forward to free him from the shirt. "I'm neither blind, nor stupid, Arthur."

"Evidence to the contrary–"

"And I'm _not_ your father."

A lot of the fight left Arthur at the reminder that Morgana and Uther rarely saw eye-to-eye. He turned away from her, back to his cupboard of tunics. "He's a _servant_, Morgana," he said, quiet enough that they could both pretend he'd said nothing at all.

"And incapable of bearing an heir," Morgana reminded him gently, and Arthur flinched. She sighed and straightened the ripped tunic in her hands, eyes tracing damaged treads, rather than watch the way Arthur seemed to almost have curled in on himself. "You would hardly be the first man to take a male as a lover on the side."

"A noble male, sure," Arthur agreed, voice bitter, and Morgana realised he'd already thought all this over. "If he was a knight, or one of the courtier's bumbling offspring, that would be acceptable. Father would disapprove, but he'd hold his tongue about it. But a _servant_?"

Uther would sooner kill Merlin than allow Arthur to touch him.

"You'd just have to be careful. Discrete."

Arthur laughed, a touch hysterical. "Merlin? _Discrete_?"

Morgana pressed her lips into a thin line. Arthur had a point; Merlin was not known for his discretion. But, then, he was hardly the sort to go around bragging about accomplishments, and he seemed honestly wary of coming under Uther's gaze, for reasons Morgana wasn't at all clear on. "I think he'd surprise you," she allowed, glancing up from the damaged tunic to catch Arthur's disbelieving stare. "Tell me you've never had cause to be _certain_ he's up to something, but nothing actually gave him away."

Arthur frowned. "That doesn't mean he could be quiet about _this_."

Morgana tossed the tunic in his face, smirking at his disgusted glare. "You'll never know until you try, now will you?" She turned and walked towards the doors. Just before opening one, she added, "The Arthur _I_ know takes what he wants."

-0-

Morgana had been right about that last comment, and Arthur spent the rest of that day mulling it over. He didn't see Merlin again until his distraction saw him in Gaius' rooms with a rather shockingly painful cut along his thigh. Merlin had quite cheerfully greeted Leon, but when he recognised Arthur, he tensed and quite formally stated, "Sire."

Arthur bit his tongue to keep in his knee-jerk response, certain it would only make things worse, and refused to meet his servant's eyes.

"Is Gaius in?" Leon requested, eyes flickering between Arthur and Merlin like he was trying to figure out what had gone wrong _this_ time.

"He's with His Majesty," Merlin replied, speaking Uther's title in that same formal tone that he'd just used on Arthur; Arthur winced to realised how angry Merlin was with him. "You can wait. Or you can put your far superior life in the hands of a useless, common idiot."

Arthur winced again, remembering well their argument from that morning. "Leon," he said, voice sturdier than it had any right to be, "you're dismissed."

"If you're sure, Sire," Leon replied. And Arthur knew it wasn't that he distrusted Merlin – it was hard to think of the idiot as a threat – but it was hard to miss the tension between them.

"I'm sure. Thank you, Leon."

"Sire. Merlin," Leon agreed, then left.

They were quiet for a long moment, Merlin working on something at one of the tables, Arthur sitting on the patient bed, one hand held against the wound in his leg.

Arthur finally clenched his free hand, swallowed his pride, and stuttered out, "I di– Y-you're not...useless. Or an– well, no, you are, kind of, an idiot, and you're definitely com–"

"I'm not sure who you're embarrassing more," Merlin interrupted, and there was still anger in his voice, but he came over with some medical supplies and knelt in front of Arthur. "Move your hand, let me see."

Arthur swallowed a heavy feeling of relief and did as ordered without comment.

Merlin's eyes flickered up to him with a hint of surprise at the silence, then he shook his head and got to work, asking, "How did this even _happen_?"

"I was distracted," Arthur admitted.

"Coming up with more chores for me to fail at?"

Arthur grimaced, and he could pretend it was more for the sudden pain of disinfectant rather than Merlin's bland comment. "I–" He took a deep breath, then rushed out, "Morgana came to yell at me, because I'm an absolute prat and I'm sorry!"

Merlin's head jerked up and he stared at Arthur, wide-eyed, for a long moment. "Did you just–?"

"Not a _word_," Arthur hissed, glancing towards the door.

Merlin let out a choked little sound, head bowed almost to touching Arthur's thighs and shoulders shaking. It took Arthur an embarrassingly long moment to realise his servant was was laughing, and he let out an irritated noise and shoved the boy's shoulder.

Merlin looked up at him, then, eyes bright. "Dollop-head."

"Lazy idiot."

"Bone idle toad."

"Merlin!"

They both jerked their heads up and around to find Gaius standing in the doorway, looking disapproving. Merlin immediately looked away, ears flaming red. Arthur, though, smiled and shrugged at the court physician. "To be fair, I started it."

Most of the disapproval left Gaius' expression and he stepped the rest of the way into the chambers. "What brings you by, sire?"

"Training accident." Arthur pointed down at his leg, which Merlin was carefully wrapping. "And, yes, I know, keep off it for a couple days; Merlin can help me back to my rooms."

"And I'll be by to check on it twice a day," Gaius reminded him.

Arthur opened his mouth, paused for a moment, then asked, "Could Merlin do it?"

Merlin's hands froze against his leg, and Gaius turned to give the prince a curious look. "I'll leave that to Merlin to decide," he allowed, then turned back to putting whatever had been in his carrying case away.

Merlin was silent as he finished wrapping Arthur's thigh, ignoring the prince's eyes burning into the back of his head. When the servant rose to put the things he hadn't used away, he met Arthur's stare and shrugged. "I can do that," he agreed.

Arthur let out a quiet breath of relief and was as well-behaved as possible when Merlin helped him up and back to his rooms. He settled Arthur on his bed and left to get him dinner, as well as to send a runner to his father, to explain why Arthur wasn't attending dinner.

When Merlin came back with the meal, he placed it before Arthur on the bed and turned to leave, offering, "I'll be back in an hour to take it back to the kitchens and help you get changed."

But Arthur grabbed for the servant and caught his wrist, holding on tight when Merlin tugged to be let go. "Stay. Please."

Merlin froze at the last word, and his eyes tracked up to meet Arthur's. Uncertainty and concern warred in the bright blue eyes for a long moment, then Merlin asked, "Arthur, are you...feeling–?"

"Come here," Arthur ordered, pulling on Merlin's wrist.

When Merlin stopped at the edge of the bed, Arthur tugged at him hard enough to pull him half onto the bed, upsetting the food tray with the sudden movement. "Arthur!" Merlin snapped, getting on the bed so he could steady the tray, then turning a glare on the prince. "What has got into you?"

"Can you keep a secret?" Arthur asked.

Shock, then wariness flashed through Merlin's eyes. Then he plastered that bright, idiotic smile onto his face. "A secret?" he asked, light and amused.

_'Tell me you've never had cause to be certain he's up to something, but nothing actually gave him away,'_ Morgana had said.

Arthur wondered what secrets hid behind that too-bright smile, and he suddenly, more than ever, wanted to know. But that would require sharing his own secrets, he knew; he had to prove he had something to lose, and Merlin was close enough that Arthur could lean forward and kiss him.

So he did.

And, wow, that had been a stupid idea, he realised when Merlin jerked back, eyes wide with an emotion Arthur couldn't even _begin_ to name. Nor did he care to, heart sinking back into the stone fortress he'd built up around it over the years.

Merlin's hand was just coming up to touch his lips when Arthur coolly stated, "You're dismissed," then determinedly turned his gaze on his dinner.

"No," Merlin said, quiet and firm.

Arthur turned an angry glare on the servant, only to find...

Well.

He still looked like Merlin, ratty clothing and ridiculous neckerchief and that unruly mop of black hair. But his _eyes_. It was like looking in the mirror when Arthur was preparing for a battle that could well mean his life. It was determination and a level of self-possession that Arthur hadn't even known Merlin was capable of.

"I'm not leaving. You can't believe I would just walk out after–"

"It meant _nothing_," Arthur snarled, hackles rising. "It was a _joke_. A bit of a laugh, just to see what you'd do." He forced his lips to curl with a smile, but it felt wrong.

"It meant something," Merlin replied, calm and composed and everything Arthur _wasn't_.

He laughed, loud and brash. "You honestly believe I would _ever_ want to kiss some worthless, common _servant_?"

Merlin didn't flinch, not like he usually would, but something flickered in his eyes. Anger or a hint of his usual upset, Arthur couldn't say. "You did, though," the servant said, voice calm and careful, no sign of the Merlin Arthur was so used to. "You kissed me, and it meant something, or you wouldn't be this angry. You wouldn't look so hurt."

Arthur saw red and he shoved forward so hard, Merlin fell backwards, the dinner tray falling after him.

Silver and ceramic and wood hit hard against the stone floor, and Merlin let out a grunt of pain.

He didn't get back up.

Arthur's throat caught, the memory of Morgana's broken wrist and Uther screaming because _'It could have been her __**neck**__, you idiot boy!'_ playing through his mind. Arthur scrambled for the edge of his bed, voice slightly panicked as he called, "Merlin?!"

Eyes wide, but unharmed in the mess of broken dishes. They stared at each other for a long moment before Merlin grunted and sat up. "Thank you for that, Sire," he said, dry and just a touch sarcastic. And it was as though their fight from that morning and the kiss moments before had never occurred.

Arthur smirked. "The floor needs a wash. And I seem to have lost my dinner, Merlin. You'll have to get me another one." When Merlin didn't move right away, Arthur let out an irritated sigh. "_Mer_lin."

Merlin looked up, a glint in his eyes that made Arthur momentarily dizzy. At least, that was his defence for why he didn't move back when the servant shifted to his knees – in a motion that was entirely too graceful for someone so clumsy – and pressed his lips to Arthur's, firm and certain and everything Arthur had needed him to be the first time.

_But, then, better late than never,_ Arthur thought as he sunk into the kiss, letting Merlin what little weight he wasn't bracing against the bed.

Wisely, Merlin braced a hand against Arthur's shoulder when he pulled back, keeping the prince from toppling out of the bed while they both took a moment to breathe.

Merlin swallowed and said, "Dinner."

"Yes," Arthur agreed, voice a little too rough. He cleared his throat and settled back on his bed, and odd mix of pleasure and nerves settling in his stomach.

Merlin climbed to his feet, gathering what he could of the mess to return it to the kitchens. "I'll be right back," he promised, turning towards the door.

"Merlin," Arthur called, and the servant paused, but didn't turn around. "My father will kill you – and probably flog me – if he finds out."

Merlin glanced back at him, too-bright smile and a glint of old bitterness in his eyes. "I'll make a point to avoid him," he promised and left.

Arthur shook his head and settled back in his bed, turning his mind towards plans to unravel all of Merlin's little secrets. And maybe get his servant out of his rags for the night.

..


End file.
